Look Not With The Eyes
by stcrmpilot
Summary: The Doctor overexerts themself. Donna picks them back up.


It was midday by the time Donna decided that the customary time-frame had passed, and the Doctor's failure to find her and drag her off on an adventure had officially become strange.

They weren't nearly as hard to find as they thought. Sure, the TARDIS could tuck them away in any remote corner they wished, seal them off in an impossible loop of corridors until they were ready to show themself again, but the TARDIS liked Donna and she liked having someone around to check up on her beloved pilot. And either way, they didn't often get much further than their own bedroom. They just weren't good at being alone; Donna had that figured out early.

So, predictably, when she did decide to go looking for them, she found them without too much fuss. They were curled up in bed (though they weren't asleep), blankets piled on top of their body, turning them into little more than a puffy lump with a head. Their eyes opened as she walked in, apprehension flickering over their features for a split second before smoothing out into exhaustion. Her heart ached.

"Hey there, Spaceman," she said, coming to a stop beside their bed and looking down at them. "It's after noon, what're you doing in here?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "It's my ship," they grumbled. "It's whatever time I want it to be."

"Well, I s'pose." Careful not to squish any of their unruly limbs, Donna sat on the edge of the bed at their side. "Are you alright?" she asked softly. She would've liked to take their hand, but when she went to pull the blankets away from their face a bit they winced and clutched them tighter.

"Fine." Their voice wavered, ever so slightly. "Fine, yeah, just…"

They struggled to find an explanation they could get past their lips. Donna felt a twinge of concern, watching them start and stop their sentence several times. Eventually, they made a little noise of frustration and pulled the blanket up past their nose; she noticed they still wore their brown suit jacket, the sleeve poking out as they tugged at the edge of the sheets.

"My chest," they mumbled, a faint blush colouring their visible skin. "I'm… I was working late, I forgot to take off my binder…"

It took her a moment before it clicked. "Oh– Doctor," she said, dismayed. "Did you go all night again?"

Sheepish, they nodded. She wanted to tell them off, but they looked so miserable she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Are you okay?" she settled on asking, placing a hand on their shoulder over the thick blanket. She examined their face for any signs of discomfort or pain.

They shrugged. "Bit sore," they said. "Bit…" They made a face, wrinkling their nose in distaste, then curled tighter in on themself and squeezed their eyes shut, as if hoping they could leave their body behind, if only they tried hard enough.

"I'm sorry, Spaceman," murmured Donna, offering a sympathetic wince. "That can't be very nice."

Shooting her a glance, they knit their brow in a frown of confusion. "It's not usually so…" They hesitated. "Bad." They were fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I– I just didn't want… to see. Until I can wear it again. Can't be long, now, the extra ribs help."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, I know, Martian Boy," she said fondly, squeezing their shoulder, "I know you don't want to. But it's not good for you to lie here all day."

The Doctor set their mouth in a line, avoiding her gaze.

"What d'you say we get some food?"

There was a moment's pause.

"I… I don't know," they said. "I don't…"

Once again, they couldn't quite manage to put their thoughts into words—not ones they could stand to speak aloud, anyway. It took them a long minute to muster up a whisper of, "Would you mind?"

It took Donna just as long to realize what they meant. Her heart sank.

"Hey, hey," she said, moving to kneel on the floor in front of them. They looked away. "You don't really think I– I would judge you, or see you any different… do you?"

They swallowed, tilting their head evasively. "Would it really be so absurd?" they mumbled.

She struggled not to betray the sadness that squeezed in her chest—she hated to see them upset, and despised the thought that her opinion of them had anything to do with it—and gave them a wry look instead. "You can't fool me, Doctor," she said, "you're the same daft old Martian no matter what you look like."

Their lips twitched into a smile, a quiet fondness filling their eyes, and they drew a shuddering breath before nodding. "S'pose," they said softly. "Thanks."

Donna smiled in return, and leaned forward to kiss their forehead, brushing their hair back out of their face. "How about you change out of that suit," she advised. "Find something looser."

The Doctor sighed in resignation. With a final pat on their shoulder, she stood and moved to sit on the end of the bed, letting them pull themself up and gather their clothes free of her scrutiny. Their footsteps retreated as they went to change in the over-large closet; when they returned, clad in pyjama pants and a baggy sweater that looked almost comical on their thin frame, they grabbed a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around their shoulders. They paused in front of the mirror to shoot themself a sour look, despite hardly being recognizable as humanoid, lingering there until Donna took their arm.

"C'mon," she said quietly. "Not long, now. I'll keep you busy."

They closed their eyes, ducking their head, and nodded. When they glanced to her once more, that familiar bracing levity had returned to their gaze. She was glad.

"Not long," they agreed, and allowed her to lead them away.


End file.
